CHAPTER III
NORTHWARDS
I make no apology to myself, or to anybody who may happen to read thisnarrative in future, for having set out the manner of my meeting withIndaba-zimbi: first, because it was curious, and secondly, because hetakes some hand in the subsequent events. If that old man was ahumbug, he was a very clever one. What amount of truth there was in hispretensions to supernatural powers it is not for me to determine, thoughI may have my own opinion on the subject. But there was no mistake as tothe extraordinary influence he exercised over his fellow-natives. Alsohe quite got round my poor father. At first the old gentleman declinedto have him at the station, for he had a great horror of these Kaffirwizards or witch-finders. But Indaba-zimbi persuaded him that he wasanxious to investigate the truths of Christianity, and challenged him toa discussion. The argument lasted two years--to the time of my father'sdeath, indeed. At the conclusion of each stage Indaba-zimbi wouldremark, in the words of the Roman Governor, "Almost, praying white man,thou persuadest me to become a Christian," but he never quite becameone--indeed, I do not think he ever meant to. It was to him that myfather addressed his "Letters to a Native Doubter." This work, which,unfortunately, remains in manuscript, is full of wise saws and learnedinstances. It ought to be published together with a _precis_ of thedoubter's answers, which were verbal.
So the talk went on. If my father had lived I believe it would be goingon now, for both the disputants were quite inexhaustible. MeanwhileIndaba-zimbi was allowed to live on the station on condition that hepractised no witchcraft, which my father firmly believed to be a wile ofthe devil. He said that he would not, but for all that there was neveran ox lost, or a sudden death, but he was consulted by those interested.
When he had been with us a year, a deputation came to him from the tribehe had left, asking him to return. Things had not gone well with themsince he went away, they said, and now the chief, his enemy, wasdead. Old Indaba-zimbi listened to them till they had done, and, as helistened, raked sand into a little heap with his toes. Then he spoke,pointing to the little heap, "There is your tribe to-day," he said.Then he lifted his heel and stamped the heap flat. "There is your tribebefore three moons are gone. Nothing is left of it. You drove me away: Iwill have no more to do with you; but when you are being killed think ofmy words."
The messengers went. Three months afterwards I heard that the wholecommunity had been wiped out by an Impi of raiding Pondos.
When I was at length ready to start upon my expedition, I went to oldIndaba-zimbi to say good-bye to him, and was rather surprised to findhim engaged in rolling up medicine, assegais, and other sundries in hisblankets.
"Good-bye, Indaba-zimbi," I said, "I am going to trek north."
"Yes, Macumazahn," he answered, with his head on one side; "and so amI--I want to see that country. We will go together."
"Will we!" I said; "wait till you are asked, you old humbug."
"You had better ask me, then, Macumazahn, for if you don't you willnever come back alive. Now that the old chief (my father) is gone towhere the storms come from," and he nodded to the sky, "I feel myselfgetting into bad habits again. So last night I just threw up the bonesand worked out about your journey, and I can tell you this, that if youdon't take me you will die, and, what is more, you will lose one who isdearer to you than life in a strange fashion. So just because you gaveme that hint a couple of years ago, I made up my mind to come with you."
"Don't talk stuff to me," I said.
"Ah, very well, Macumazahn, very well; but what happened to my ownpeople six months ago, and what did I tell the messengers would happen?They drove me away, and they are gone. If you drive me away you willsoon be gone too," and he nodded his white lock at me and smiled. NowI was not more superstitious than other people, but somehow oldIndaba-zimbi impressed me. Also I knew his extraordinary influence overevery class of native, and bethought me that he might be useful in thatway.
"All right," I said: "I appoint you witch-finder to the expeditionwithout pay."
"First serve, then ask for wages," he answered. "I am glad to see thatyou have enough imagination not to be altogether a fool, like most whitemen, Macumazahn. Yes, yes, it is want of imagination that makespeople fools; they won't believe what they can't understand. You can'tunderstand my prophecies any more than the fool at the kraal couldunderstand that I was his master with the lightning. Well, it is time totrek, but if I were you, Macumazahn, I should take one waggon, not two."
"Why?" I said.
"Because you will lose your waggons, and it is better to lose one thantwo."
"Oh, nonsense!" I said.
"All right, Macumazahn, live and learn." And without another word hewalked to the foremost waggon, put his bundle into it, and climbed on tothe front seat.
So having bid an affectionate adieu to my white friends, including theold Scotchman who got drunk in honour of the event, and quoted Burnstill the tears ran down his face, at length I started, and travelledslowly northwards. For the first three weeks nothing very particularbefell me. Such Kaffirs as we came in contact with were friendly, andgame literally swarmed. Nobody living in those parts of South Africanowadays can have the remotest idea of what the veldt was like eventhirty years ago.
Often and often I have crept shivering on to my waggon-box just as thesun rose and looked out. At first one would see nothing but a vast fieldof white mist suffused towards the east by a tremulous golden glow,through which the tops of stony koppies stood up like gigantic beacons.From the dense mist would come strange sounds--snorts, gruntings,bellows, and the thunder of countless hoofs. Presently this greatcurtain would grow thinner, then it would melt, as the smoke from apipe melts into the air, and for miles on miles the wide rolling countryinterspersed with bush opened to the view. But it was not tenantless asit is now, for as far as the eye could reach it would be literally blackwith game. Here to the right might be a herd of vilderbeeste that couldnot number less than two thousand. Some were grazing, some gambolled,whisking their white tails into the air, while all round the old bullsstood upon hillocks sniffing suspiciously at the breeze. There, infront, a hundred yards away, though to the unpractised eye they lookedmuch closer, because of the dazzling clearness of the atmosphere, wasa great herd of springbok trekking along in single file. Ah, they havecome to the waggon-track and do not like the look of it. What will theydo?--go back? Not a bit of it. It is nearly thirty feet wide, but thatis nothing to a springbok. See, the first of them bounds into the airlike a ball. How beautifully the sunshine gleams upon his goldenhide! He has cleared it, and the others come after him in numberlesssuccession, all except the fawns, who cannot jump so far, and have toscamper over the doubtful path with a terrified _bah_. What is thatyonder, moving above the tops of the mimosa, in the little dell at thefoot of the koppie? Giraffes, by George! three of them; there will bemarrow-bones for supper to-night. Hark! the ground shakes behind us, andover the brow of the rise rush a vast herd of blesbock. On they come atfull gallop, their long heads held low, they look like so many beardedgoats. I thought so--behind them is a pack of wild dogs, their furdraggled, their tongues lolling. They are in full cry; the giraffes hearthem and are away, rolling round the koppie like a ship in a heavy sea.No marrow-bones after all. See! the foremost dogs are close on a buck.He has galloped far and is outworn. One springs at his flank and misseshim. The buck gives a kind of groan, looks wildly round and sees thewaggon. He seems to hesitate a moment, then in his despair rushes upto it, and falls exhausted among the oxen. The dogs pull up some thirtypaces away, panting and snarling. Now, boy, the gun--no, not the rifle,the shot-gun loaded with loopers.
Bang! bang! there, my friends, two of you will never hunt buck again.No, don't touch the buck, for he has come to us for shelter, and heshall have it.
Ah, how beautiful is nature before man comes to spoil it!
Such a sight as this have I seen many a hundred times, and I hope to seeit again before I die.
The first real adventure that befell me on this
particular journey waswith elephants, which I will relate because of its curious termination.Just before we crossed the Orange River we came to a stretch offorest-land some twenty miles broad. The night we entered this forestwe camped in a lovely open glade. A few yards ahead tambouki grass wasgrowing to the height of a man, or rather it had been; now, with theexception of a few stalks here and there, it was crushed quite flat. Itwas already dusk when we camped; but after the moon got up I walked fromthe fire to see how this had happened. One glance was enough for me;a great herd of elephants had evidently passed over the tall grass notmany hours before. The sight of their spoor rejoiced me exceedingly,for though I had seen wild elephants, at that time I had never shotone. Moreover, the sight of elephant spoor to the African hunter is what"colour in the pan" is to the prospector of gold. It is by the ivorythat he lives, and to shoot it or trade it is his chief aim in life. Myresolution was soon taken. I would camp the waggons for a while in theforest, and start on horseback after the elephants.
I communicated my decision to Indaba-zimbi and the other Kaffirs. Thelatter were not loth, for your Kaffir loves hunting, which means plentyof meat and congenial occupation, but Indaba-zimbi would express noopinion. I saw him retire to a little fire that he had lit for himself,and go through some mysterious performances with bones and clay mixedwith ashes, which were watched with the greatest interest by the otherKaffirs. At length he rose, and, coming forward, informed me that it wasall right, and that I did well to go and hunt the elephants, as I shouldget plenty of ivory; but he advised me to go on foot. I said I shoulddo nothing of the sort, but meant to ride. I am wiser now; this wasthe first and last time that I ever attempted to hunt elephants onhorseback.
Accordingly we started at dawn, I, Indaba-zimbi, and three men; the restI left with the waggons. I was on horseback, and so was my driver, agood rider and a skilful shot for a Kaffir, but Indaba-zimbi and theothers walked. From dawn till mid-day we followed the trail of the herd,which was as plain as a high road. Then we off-saddled to let the horsesrest and feed, and about three o'clock started on again. Another hour orso passed, and still there was no sign of elephants. Evidently the herdhad travelled fast and far, and I began to think that we should have togive it up, when suddenly I caught sight of a brown mass moving throughthe thorn-trees on the side of a slope about a quarter of a mile away.My heart seemed to jump into my mouth. Where is the hunter who has notfelt like this at the sight of his first elephant?
I called a halt, and then the wind being right, we set to work to stalkthe bull. Very quietly I rode down the hither side of the slope till wecame to the bottom, which was densely covered with bush. Here I saw theelephants had been feeding, for broken branches and upturned trees layall about. I did not take much notice, however, for all my thoughtswere fixed upon the bull I was stalking, when suddenly my horse gavea violent start that nearly threw me from the saddle, and there came amighty rush and upheaval of something in front of me. I looked: therewas the hinder part of a second bull elephant not four yards off. Icould just catch sight of its outstretched ears projecting on eitherside. I had disturbed it sleeping, and it was running away.
Obviously the best thing to do would have been to let it run, but I wasyoung in those days and foolish, and in the excitement of the moment Ilifted my "roer" or elephant gun and fired at the great brute over myhorse's head. The recoil of the heavy gun nearly knocked me off thehorse. I recovered myself, however, and, as I did so, saw the bulllurch forward, for the impact of a three-ounce bullet in the flank willquicken the movement even of an elephant. By this time I had realizedthe folly of the shot, and devoutly hoped that the bull would takeno further notice of it. But he took a different view of the matter.Pulling himself up in a series of plunges, he spun round and came forme with outstretched ears and uplifted trunk, screaming terribly. I wasquite defenceless, for my gun was empty, and my first thought was ofescape. I dug my heels into the sides of my horse, but he would not movean inch. The poor animal was paralyzed with terror, and he simply stoodstill, his fore-legs outstretched, and quivering all over like a leaf.
On rushed the elephant, awful to see; I made one more vain effort tostir the horse. Now the trunk of the great bull swung aloft above myhead. A thought flashed through my brain. Quick as light I rolled fromthe saddle. By the side of the horse lay a fallen tree, as thick throughas a man's body. The tree was lifted a little off the ground by thebroken boughs which took its weight, and with a single movement, soactive is one in such necessities, I flung myself beneath it. As I didso, I heard the trunk of the elephant descend with a mighty thud on theback of my poor horse, and the next instant I was almost in darkness,for the horse, whose back was broken, fell over across the tree underwhich I lay ensconced. But he did not stop there long. In ten secondsmore the bull had wound his trunk about my dead nag's neck, and, with amighty effort, hurled him clear of the tree. I wriggled backwards as faras I could towards the roots of the tree, for I knew what he was after.Presently I saw the red tip of the bull's trunk stretching itselftowards me. If he could manage to hook it round any part of me I waslost. But in the position I occupied, that was just what he could notdo, although he knelt down to facilitate his operations. On came thesnapping tip like a great open-mouthed snake; it closed upon my hat,which vanished. Again it was thrust down, and a scream of rage wasbellowed through it within four inches of my head. Now it seemed toelongate itself. Oh, heavens! now it had me by the hair, which, luckilyfor myself, was not very long. Then it was my turn to scream, for nextinstant half a square inch of hair was dragged from my scalp by theroots. I was being plucked alive, as I have seen cruel Kaffir kitchenboys pluck a fowl.
The elephant, however, disappointed with these moderate results, changedhis tactics. He wound his trunk round the fallen tree and lifted. Thetree stirred, but fortunately the broken branches embedded in the spongysoil, and some roots, which still held, prevented it from being turnedover, though he lifted it so much that, had it occurred to him, he couldnow easily have drawn me out with his trunk. Again he hoisted with allhis mighty strength, and I saw that the tree was coming, and roaredaloud for help. Some shots were fired close by in answer, but if theyhit the bull, their only effect was to stir his energies to more activelife. In another few seconds my shelter would be torn away, and I shouldbe done for. A cold perspiration burst out over me as I realized that Iwas lost. Then of a sudden I remembered that I had a pistol in my belt,which I often used for despatching wounded game. It was loaded andcapped. By this time the tree was lifted so much that I could easily getmy hand down to my middle and draw the pistol from its case. I drew andcocked it. Now the tree was coming over, and there, within three feet ofmy head, was the great brown trunk of the elephant. I placed themuzzle of the pistol within an inch of it and fired. The result wasinstantaneous. Down sunk the tree again, giving one of my legs aconsiderable squeeze, and next instant I heard a crashing sound. Theelephant had bolted.
By this time, what between fright and struggling, I was pretty welltired. I cannot remember how I got from under the fallen tree, or indeedanything, until I found myself sitting on the ground drinking some peachbrandy from a flask, and old Indaba-zimbi opposite to me noddinghis white lock sagely, while he fired off moral reflections on thenarrowness of my escape, and my unwisdom in not having taken his adviceto go on foot. That reminded me of my horse--I got up and went to lookat it. It was quite dead, the blow of the elephant's trunk had fallenon the saddle, breaking the framework, and rendering it useless. Ireflected that in another two seconds it would have fallen on _me_. ThenI called to Indaba-zimbi and asked which way the elephants had gone.
"There!" he said, pointing down the gully, "and we had better go afterthem, Macumazahn. We have had the bad luck, now for the good."
There was philosophy in this, though, to tell the truth, I did not feelparticularly sharp set on elephants at the moment. I seemed to have hadenough of them. However, it would never do to show the white featherbefore the boys, so I assented with much outward readiness, and westart
ed, I on the second horse, and the others on foot. When we hadtravelled for the best part of an hour down the valley, all of a suddenwe came upon the whole herd, which numbered a little more than eighty.Just in front of them the bush was so thick that they seemed to hesitateabout entering it, and the sides of the valley were so rocky and steepat this point that they could not climb them.
They saw us at the same moment as we saw them, and inwardly I was filledwith fears lest they should take it into their heads to charge back upthe gully. But they did not; trumpeting aloud, they rushed at the thickbush which went down before them like corn before a sickle. I do notthink that in all my experiences I ever heard anything to equal thesound they made as they crashed through and over the shrubs and trees.Before them was a dense forest belt from a hundred to a hundred andfifty feet in width. As they rushed on, it fell, so that behind themwas nothing but a level roadway strewed with fallen trunks, crushedbranches, and here and there a tree, too strong even for them, leftstranded amid the wreck. On they went, and, notwithstanding the natureof the ground over which they had to travel, they kept their distanceahead of us. This sort of thing continued for a mile or more, and thenI saw that in front of the elephants the valley opened into a spacecovered with reeds and grass--it might have been five or six acres inextent--beyond which the valley ran on again.
The herd reached the edge of this expanse, and for a moment pulled up,hesitating--evidently they mistrusted it. My men yelled aloud, as onlyKaffirs can, and that settled them. Headed by the wounded bull, whosemartial ardour, like my own, was somewhat cooled, they spread out anddashed into the treacherous swamp--for such it was, though just thenthere was no water to be seen. For a few yards all went well with them,though they clearly found it heavy going; then suddenly the great bullsank up to his belly in the stiff peaty soil, and remained fixed. Theothers, mad with fear, took no heed of his struggles and trumpetings,but plunged on to meet the same fate. In five minutes the whole herd ofthem were hopelessly bogged, and the more they struggled to escape, thedeeper they sunk. There was one exception, indeed, a cow managed to winback to firm shore, and, lifting her trunk, prepared to charge us as wecame up. But at that moment she heard the scream of her calf, and rushedback to its assistance, only to be bogged with the others.
Such a scene I never saw before or since. The swamp was spotted allover with the large forms of the elephants, and the air rang with theirscreams of rage and terror as they waved their trunks wildly to and fro.Now and then a monster would make a great effort and drag his mass fromits peaty bed, only to stick fast again at the next step. It was a mostpitiable sight, though one that gladdened the hearts of my men. Even thebest natives have little compassion for the sufferings of animals.
Well, the rest was easy. The marsh that would not bear the elephantscarried our weight well enough. Before midnight all were dead, for weshot them by moonlight. I would gladly have spared the young ones andsome of the cows, but to do so would only have meant leaving them toperish of hunger; it was kinder to kill them at once. The wounded bull Islew with my own hand, and I cannot say that I felt much compunction inso doing. He knew me again, and made a desperate effort to get at me,but I am glad to say that the peat held him fast.
The pan presented a curious sight when the sun rose next morning. Owingto the support given by the soil, few of the dead elephants had fallen:there they stood as though they were asleep.
I sent back for the waggons, and when they arrived on the morrow, formeda camp, about a mile away from the pan. Then began the work of cuttingout the elephants' tusks; it took over a week, and for obvious reasonswas a disgusting task. Indeed, had it not been for the help of somewandering bushmen, who took their pay in elephant meat, I do not thinkwe could ever have managed it.
At last it was done. The ivory was far too cumbersome for us to carry,so we buried it, having first got rid of our bushmen allies. My boyswanted me to go back to the Cape with it and sell it, but I was too muchbent on my journey to do this. The tusks lay buried for five years. ThenI came and dug them up; they were but little harmed. Ultimately I soldthe ivory for something over twelve hundred pounds--not bad pay for oneday's shooting.
This was how I began my career as an elephant hunter. I have shot manyhundreds of them since, but have never again attempted to do so onhorseback.
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